Swallowed in the sea
by Liek
Summary: one shot. A person wakes up on the beach without memory.


_**Swallowed in the sea**_

At first there was only blue, a deep endless blue that seemed to stretch out forever, as calm and quiet as his mind.

Then seagulls came, diving in and out of his view, reflecting the sunlight with their bright white bodies, making him remember that the world was larger that his range of vision, and there was more to see than just the blue.

Feeling returned, for the wind was merciless and blew right through his wet, sand covered clothes, not caring if rough caress hurt the already hurt body of the one wearing them.

He turned and faced the sea.

Out of nothing came the screams, the cries of terror, the sickening sound of breaking wood…  
Flashes of scenes he did not want to remember, of things that hurt so much to think about…  
He could not breathe… he…there was no breath…

_NO!_

He turned abruptly, moving faster than his wounded body should have allowed, and fled away from the water as if it were a balrog set to slay him.

o0o0o

He walked on without destination, his only motivation to get as far away from the sea, the water and the memories as possible.

The solid ground under his feet gave him a feeling of certainty, even though nothing of the landscape seemed familiar, and nothing in it gave him even the smallest hint that he belonged here.  
And so he kept walking and walking, without stopping or resting until one day he reached the top of a hill and froze dead in his tracks.  
There it was again, glittering in the fading sunlight, sparking like a thousand diamonds: The Sea.

_Island_

The analytic part of his brain informed him pleasantly, regardless of what the rest of him might feel.

_You are on an island._

o0o0o

They found him somewhere in the middle of the island, on the place where he had finally fallen down when his body had had failed him in the end. They were nice to him, they lent him clothes and gave him his food, and he remembered to smile in thanks.

The islanders were friendly and simple people that lived on what the ocean gave them, and like all treasures brought by the sea, he was brought to the house of the man that found him.

He smiled when they spoke, and nodded in thanks as they brought him more food and more clothes, even though he did not understand a word they said.

None of their faces was familiar to him, but apparently they were not supposed to be either, for none of islanders seemed to recognize _him_.

Instead, they pointed as he walked past, whispered to each other, and stopped talking when he turned.

They were different from him too. He often found himself alone, after all of them had gone to rest, or finished eating when they were digging in. He saw and heard things coming long before they did, and if he helped to work the land, he could go on long after they had stopped.

He nodded at them every time he found himself doing things differently, and they nodded in return, right before they left to inform their friends of what strange things he had done now.

The children were different. Their pointing and laughter was open, cruel and innocent at the same time. He smiled at them too, and allowed them to come near and touch the ears they found so amusing, and grinned when they compared his glowing skin to theirs.

There was one boy that interested him more than the others, for somehow he had a feeling the child seemed familiar somehow.

The boy was strong and intelligent, and yet none of the other children seemed to realize, for he was somewhat of an outsider at all times.

There was something about the boy that made him feel responsible for the child, something about his shoulder-length dark curling hair that gave him a feeling of… kinship.  
The feeling lasted usually until the boy looked up at him, for somehow his eyes broke the spell, ruined the illusion. He could never shake the feeling that they were supposed to be grey.

Every time the boy looked up he saw two faces: the face in front of him that belonged to the boy, and the face in the back of his mind, that belonged to the one he almost remembered.

o0o0o

He stared down at the face that the pencil in his hand had made appear on the blank paper, and then he stared at all the similar pictures his hands had drawn when he was not thinking, without informing his mind what they meant.

It had all started when he had wanted to draw the face of the boy he remembered, when he had found that he could only do it when he did not concentrate, when he thought of something else completely.

The first few pictures had been the dark haired, grey eyed boy of his only vague memories, but then the face he had drawn had changed into another.

A face he had now drawn a thousand times.

It belonged to a male, though not like ones he had ever seen on the island, for it was somehow slender in a way that almost was not human, and there was no hair on his chin.  
His hair was longer than most islanders wore it, and darker too, though his eyes were light.

There were drawings now of the person looking heartbroken and sad, as well as drawings where the face shone with laugher and mischief.

His hands gently caressed the picture.

"I miss you." he whispered softly. "I don't know who you are… but…I miss you."

The picture did not speak, but somehow, in the back of his mind a faint and distant voice answered his thoughts.

_I miss you too_

o0o0o

Some of the things that the islanders tried to teach him came to his as easily as breathing. The first time they let him hold a bow, he shot right into the middle of the target, and after that his shots only improved, and he was a far too good a rider for the horse they had supplied him with.

Other things he had to learn, step by step, like the knotting of the fishing nets they used, or the maintenance of their boats.

He could never predict what he would be able to do at first try and what he would not, but as he tried everything he slowly began to understand the pattern. Every weapon in his hands felt familiar, and he could fight even without the aid of one. Though he could not remember the lessons it was clear he had been trained a warrior, not a fisherman, but even the things that didn't come to him naturally he learned fast.

It was a great relief to him to learn that at least he was not stupid, that though his mind could not find his memories, at least it was not damaged in any other way.

o0o0o

He found that there were more hints to his past on the island when he put some effort into learning the language, and started paying attention to their words. There was one word in their language, two sounds, that always made him react as if his name had been spoken.

_Rothir_

He would look up startled, unintentionally, and the human speaking would look at him strangely, while he remembered that they had not indicated him, but some kind of drill.

_Rothir_

The word stuck with him, and in his mind it became what he called himself, for the lack of something better, ever musing on the sound.

_Rothir… Rothir… Elrothir? _

_No…_

He fell asleep with the word on his lips, and woke up remembering his name.

o0o0o

_Elrohir_

Now that he had found that name, another followed without effort.

_Elladan_

He found his drawings again and stared at the stranger's face.

"Elladan?" he asked, looking the drawing into the eyes. "Are you Elladan?"  
There was nothing but silence, and Elrohir did not know why he had expected anything else. It was just a drawing after all, just…

…_Elrohir? _

It was a voice in the back of his head just like his own, and yet he knew it to be different.  
"Elladan?"

_Ro. Where are you? _

There was a relief in the words, a happiness that Elrohir shared, even if he didn't understand why.  
"I am here. Where are you?"  
_  
Home. _

His mind was filled with the picture of a beautiful valley and a marble white house.

_Home…_

The word echoed in his mind as he remembered staircases and cupboards, statues  
and paintings…

Home…

He lacked the words to describe his home to the Islanders, but he could draw and so he did. He drew everything he could remember, every small detail, every landscape view.

"Home" he said, pointing at the pictures. "Home" he repeated as the islanders exchanged sad looks. "Home. Where?"

"Oh honey…" His female host finally said. "It is over the sea, love. You would have to sail."

o0o0o

They all knew he did not like the sea. They knew because they had seen him. Because they had tried to take him with them, after he had learned to knot the nets, and work on the boats. They knew because they had accepted him into their lives, and their lives belonged to the sea.

But Elrohir could not bear to be close to it.

Not even now that he knew his home lay beyond that mass of water could he tolerate the view, for images flowed down upon him.

_Freezing fingers holding wet ropes.  
__Waves high as houses towering above them, ready to smash down…  
__The fear in the eyes of the others as the broken pieces of their ship rose and rose…as the depth they would surely fall grew and grew…  
__Blood in water…  
__Sharks eating at the bodies of the people that had been his friends…_

_Cold…  
__Thirst…  
__Loneliness…_

The images where interrupted gently by a soft call in the back of his mind.

_Elrohir…_

The sound of his name calmed him, and he regained the breath that he had lost when the memories had drained him.

_Elrohir, the sea is not always like that.  
__Remember we went sailing with Nana when we were young?  
__You loved that. _

While the voice of Elladan was calming him, a part of his mind rejected the words spoken. He did not remember.

He only remembered how he had held the head of his friend Gelir above the water, fighting to stay afloat himself, and how the weight had slowly become too much… how they had been dragged down… how he had been forced to let go… how…

_She wore her blue summer's dress. _

He remembered the dress, he remembered she wore it only when she was happy. He remembered her silver hair, her shining eyes…

He remembered finding her in a cave… her blood dripping off the walls.

_She loved sailing_

He remembered the last time she sailed, without the intention of ever coming back, without taking them, taking every dress but her blue one, for she had burned it in a moment when she had believed she would never be happy again.

_You love sailing_

His mind was back at the waves again. Gelir…

_You taught Arwen. _

_And Estel. _

New images entered his mind. The boy with grey eyes and curly hair… A dark-haired girl looking up to him, his brother and sister…

A deep longing woke in his heart. To see them, to hold them…

_And you even improved me. _

And then he remembered Elladan. Remembered. Not just the sound of his name or the shape of his face, but Elladan, the way he was, the way he reacted, the way the corner's of his mouth would curl if he had spoken these words.

Elladan.

He looked at the sea and saw beyond the waters.

He looked at the sea and saw not the strength of the waves, or the danger of the currents. He did not see the sharks swimming below, nor the lighting crashing down.

He looked at the sea and he saw his brother waiting at the other side, and he knew that he would sail.

"Elladan." He said.

_Elrohir_

"Elladan, I am coming home."

There was no answer, but Elrohir felt the same joy his brother felt, and knew that there was no way to put it into words. "Will you be waiting?"

The answer came as swift as lightning.

_Of course. _

o0o0o

At first there was only blue, a deep endless blue that seemed to stretch out forever, as calm and quiet as the lonely figure on the beach appeared to be to the outside world.

Then, a white sail appeared on the horizon, and Elladan no longer felt the merciless blowing of the wind.

He dived into the ocean and swam, swam as if his life depended on it until he would hold his twin in his arms.

They were each others lifeline, Elladan and Elrohir, and as long as they were together, none of them would drown.

_**The End**_

_Based upon the Coldplay song_


End file.
